To Thee My Love I Give
by alliluna
Summary: An arranged marriage was not what Princess Mary wanted. Matthew Crawley was not royal and in any case, she barely knew him. But an arranged marriage she was involved in. Medieval AU for the MM AU Fest.
1. Chapter 1

Here is my first offering for the MM AU Fest! There may be a couple more drabbles on Tumblr, but this is my big offering, and it will be multi-chapter. I will try to update less sporadically but unfortunately I can't promise that. Just a note, flashbacks are italicized. Anyway, reviews are amazing and I will love you forever if you review, and go check out all the other AU Fest stories! Enjoy!

* * *

The day of the funeral was cold. Mary could see the breath coming from her father's mouth as he spoke of the merits of her cousin.

She hadn't liked Patrick at all. To her, he had just been her annoying older cousin who she was to be forced to marry. She didn't have a choice. Not many girls like her did, though. Marriages were more diplomatic arrangements than anything else.

Patrick had few merits, having been a bonafide idiot and a rebellious one at that. He had always been a troublemaker, bringing shame to the royal family of the kingdom of Downton.

Mary thought, as a princess, marrying Patrick was beneath her. He was only Sir Patrick Crawley, and he wasn't even that closely related to her family. He was just lucky enough to be a boy in a family where girls seemed to be much more common. Patrick had the good fortune to be the heir.

She didn't see why she couldn't have the throne, as she could run a kingdom far better than him, or any man at that. "The inheritance system is idiotic," she had complained to her father, but he had not truly listened. Nothing changed.

Patrick was dead now. The true nature of his death had not been disclosed, not even to Mary. "He is my intended," she had protested, wanting to at least know the reason her cousin died. She did not claim to care for Patrick a great deal, but at least knowing the cause of his death would be nice.

"It isn't something for delicate young feminine minds to hear," King Robert had replied. Mary was not delicate or even excessively feminine, but she simply rolled her eyes at this protest.

And now that Patrick was dead, there was a new heir. A heir they had yet to meet. All they had was a name. Sir Matthew Crawley was coming from his home in Manchester to Downton.

"_Manchester," Mary scoffed. "I cannot believe we have a cousin who lives in Manchester."_

_"Oh come on, I'm sure he's perfectly nice," Sybil replied. Dear Sybil, to Mary's chagrin, was almost always right. Nobody could hold up to her ridiculously high moral standard. Sybil was the princess who was loved by all in the kingdom. Mary was considered aloof and her sister Edith considered unimpressive._

_To Sybil's comment, Mary rolled her eyes. "No doubt you will both fall in love and then you will be queen of Downton."_

_"I thought you and Sir Matthew were engaged," Edith snarked, trying to get her voice heard. She and Mary were always making sarcastic comments to each other, engaged in a constant battle of oneupmanship that had often been compared to the worst and most senseless of wars._

_This Mary could not take. "I have not ever been told of this, how could we be engaged?"_

_"You were engaged to Patrick, it only makes sense that you are engaged to the next heir," Edith replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone._

_Queen Cora had entered the room during this comment. She made her way discreetly over to Mary and handed her a letter. Mary's face grew pale, paler than her typical complexion. "Edith...is this some sort of awful trick?"_

_"What is it?" Edith questioned._

_"I haven't even met him, Mama! Why am I engaged to him, of all people?" Mary threw the letter to the floor angrily and stormed out of the room._

_Edith bent down and picked the letter up off the floor. "Well, there goes my chance at being queen."_

"I can't believe he's gone now," Edith said, blinking back tears as she stared at Patrick's grave.

"Don't make such a show of your grief, Edith. It's not very impressive." Mary's voice was cold, emotionless. The voice had been there since she got the letter that Matthew had agreed to her father's offer of her hand in marriage. Her father had gone ahead, without her consent, and gotten her engaged. To say she was a little bit annoyed would be an understatement. Of course, most considered it her father's right to choose her husband. Mary was considered far too progressive for her time, but most people thought she wanted to rebel for the sake of rebellion. It was true that she was rather contrary, always wanting what she couldn't have, but she was rather forward-thinking. Not as much as Sybil, as no one could be as progressive as Sybil, but certainly more than the people of her society. Her icy tone was a natural part of her, borne of residual bitterness and annoyance at her world.

Edith blanched at Mary's coldness. "He was your fiancee. Aren't you sad?"

"I don't believe in sentimentality."

"Sentimentality? Mourning is sentimentality? I think it's rather proper to mourn, especially for such a kind young man who died so young." Edith wrapped her black cloak closer around her.

Mary rolled her eyes. "A kind man? I rather should think you were in love with him."

Tears were rolling down Edith's face, tears that would never come to Mary's eyes. "Maybe I was! Do you know how lucky you were? Everyone wanted you to marry him, and then you could become queen and have a wonderful husband. I loved Patrick, he would have been a perfect king."

"We never were fond of each other. I don't see why you must fuss so about it."

"Fuss so? You aren't even sad about his death!" Edith was shaking now, an undesired image for a princess.

Mary began to walk back towards the castle. "I am sad. I'm not as sad as I'm supposed to be, and that is what makes me sad."

The castle was bustling when they got back, slaves and serfs rushing around to make the meal for after the funeral. Edith, claiming lightheadedness, had gone up to her room. The luncheon was quiet, as Robert's mother had also not come down.

"Sir Matthew should arrive in a few days," the king mentioned, trying to break the somber atmosphere that had settled.

Sybil looked up from her meal and smiled at her father gently. "That's wonderful. I'm eager to meet him."

Mary glanced from Robert to Sybil and back again. Their excitement about the new heir was frankly disgusting. If the world was fair, it would be her to inherit, not some stupid cousin from the Kingdom of Manchester. "Why are you so excited? He's my fiancee."

"I thought you didn't want to marry him," Sybil replied cooly, taking a drink from her goblet.

"I don't." Mary sipped her own drink. "But why are you quite so eager about his arrival?"

Sybil gave another sweet smile. "Well, it's better than waiting to find out what he is like. Besides, shouldn't it be nice to have some new company around. You and Edith can be dreadfully boring."

"Oh yes, I'm so boring. I can't even decipher what you mean."

"You're so stuck to the rules. And you won't ever do anything with me. All you want to do is mope around the castle. I want to explore things, find new paths, maybe learn to read..." Sybil's tone was now directed at her father. "Perhaps Sir Matthew will be kind enough to actually help me live a life."

"Girls, you will find out soon enough what he is like. Please stop arguing. He should arrive tomorrow," Robert interrupted. "I should go to my chamber. I have a splitting headache, and there is supposed to be a ruling on the case of a thief in the morning."

The next day came too soon, in Mary's opinion. Too soon she was standing in front of the castle, weighed down in her heavy dress, black of course because of stupid Patrick, ready to meet the new heir, her fiancee.

It was still bitterly cold, the fog a constant companion to the luxurious castle of the royal family. Rain had not fallen, but the skies threatened to empty their water. The horse of the man who they were waiting for was barely visible until he had nearly come all the way up to the castle. And that was Mary's first glimpse of Sir Matthew Crawley.

Her first impression; a decent man, not particularly tall but not short either. Nondescript blond hair, pale skin much like her own, a manner of walking that seemed confident enough but certainly not the magisterial posture that had been drilled into her since childhood. The only thing that truly stood out to her was his eyes, bright blue, bluer than the pond near the castle on a summer day, bluer than the dyed cloth of Sybil's favorite dress.

He rode up to the front of the castle and pulled on the reigns of the horse, coming to a less than graceful stop. He bobbed up and down with the control of a rider who only rode when necessary, and Mary internally moaned. She herself was an accomplished equestrian, though her mother didn't consider it a proper talent for a princess.

The horse whinnied as Matthew slid off and landed hard on his feet with a loud thump. He grimaced, but straightened out and tried to smile.

"Greetings," King Robert said as Matthew approached him.

The younger man nodded and bowed carefully, as if he was afraid he would fall if he bowed any lower. He was awkward, a shaggy lock of blond hair flopping around his face as he raised his head to meet Robert's eyes. "And to you as well, your majesty."

Robert let a smile cross his lips. "I look forward to getting to know you."

"And I you, your majesty," Matthew replied.

The queen stepped forward next, and Matthew bowed once again. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Sir Matthew."

He smiled in reply and turned to Mary, who was glaring at him harshly. He stepped back from her dark stare and tried to smile at her. "Your Highness..."

"You may as well call me Mary, as we are engaged," she said, practically hissing at him.

He didn't know what welcomed such hostility from her, but he nodded and stepped back. In all honesty, he wasn't too pleased about the marriage either, but his mother and Robert had insisted vehemently, and he tried to avoid conflict if necessary.

"No doubt we will do well together, Mary," he said, the words feeling oddly poisonous on his tongue, as if they were a pack of lies, obvious ones.

"No doubt," she repeated coldly, but her attention obviously wasn't on him. He moved on to greet Edith, and then Sybil, both of whom were rather enthusiastic to see him. They were rather isolated, and the sight of new company, especially handsome male company, was rather appealing.

"We meet in the solar, which is the room just across the hall from Mama and Papa's room, and then we go to dinner. The cook prepared a mighty feast for your arrival tonight," Sybil said cheerily, taking it upon herself to make her cousin feel welcome.

He nodded. "Will you show me to my chamber? The journey was terribly long."

"Of course. Is your mother to come?" Edith had pushed Sybil out of the way, and was practically hanging on to Matthew's arm. Only Mary kept her distance.

"Yes, she is with the wagon with our items," he replied, and as they walked away, their voices faded.

His voice was nice, she thought. Oh, what was she doing? This man was being forced on her, and she had no ability to object. Was she expected to like him?

She supposed she was. It wasn't as if she could expect to choose her own husband. If only she were stronger, more rebellious, less engrained in the society she was born into. Maybe then she could possibly leave, think for herself. But no, that was more like Sybil.

And Sir Matthew Crawley. He seemed overeager. He certainly had something to do with this arrangement, despite her father's claims to the contrary. And Mary wasn't sure she liked him at all.

Supper was a grand affair, with several different kinds of meat, and wine, a delicacy so rare in Downton. "Only the best for my daughter's husband," King Robert had said cordially to Matthew. He had immediately taken a liking to the young man.

Matthew, for his part, seemed a little bit unnerved in the giant castle, as the center of attention. He had lived a quieter life in Manchester, training to be a knight of course, but never the center of attention. Always the learner.

Sybil had taken an immediate liking to him. "It's always so dull around here," she complained at dinner, to which he just gave a gentle smile. "But you seem like you might shake the place up a bit."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Matthew replied.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. "Well, you may very well change up Mary's life. She's not exactly thrilled with the prospect of the wedding..."

"I can understand..." he said quietly. The marriage wasn't really his greatest desire, but his mother was pressing him into it. He loved his mother of course, probably more than was considered proper for a man of his stature, but sometimes she meddled too much in his affairs. Mary was a beautiful woman, if cold and unapproachable. But perhaps that could change.

That night, when dark had settled upon the castle, Matthew found himself in the solar, the center of the suite of rooms that the family occupied. With a copy of The Canterbury Tales on his lap and a candle next to him he was quite contented.

Until she came out.

He didn't notice her until she spoke. Her footsteps on the cold stone floor were inaudible, but her voice was not. "You can read." It was a blunt observation, one without accusation or surprise.

"My father taught me. Both of my parents thought it would be a good thing for me to learn, and it could possibly help me get farther in life. Can you?"

Mary shook her head. "No. I honestly never desired to. But it's a rare skill so I don't really feel obligated to learn."

"Do you want to?"

She shrugged. "I suppose it would be nice. Knowing if all those passages the priests talks to us about are true would be interesting."

"I could teach you." He closed the book and turned his attention fully to her.

"Maybe, when we have time," Mary replied cooly.

"We have years."

She looked down at herself. "I'm in my nightclothes," she said in self-realization. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here."

"Why are you out here?" he questioned. It wasn't harsh, and a quiet and concerned tone seeped through his voice.

"Sometimes I can't sleep, so I come look out into the village through the window," she explained. "It's always so alive, filled with people at every time at night, even when most sensible people should be asleep. There are men at the tavern, boys who have sneaked out of the house to serenade girls, people simply doing their work at night, and I keep thinking, they have so much life in them. Me, I feel like there isn't much to live for. Life for us is dress, eat, hunt, and sleep, marry, and then repeat the same pattern time and time again. And we don't even get to choose who we marry. Of course, that's the way this idiotic world works."

He pressed his lips together. "I've made you angry."

"My life makes me angry, not you," she replied curtly.

He let the corners of his mouth turn up in a slight smile. "If it makes any difference, I think you are fascinating."

Mary stepped towards the window. "Aren't you the charmer."

"No, I am being serious. But you know, we don't have to marry. Not if you don't want you. If you have any problems with it..."

She let out a laugh, a harsh, self-mocking laugh. "How could I ever refuse a man who tells me that. No, if we don't marry, I will probably be pawned off to a far worse man than you."

"You think highly of me then?"

"I still think you're rather pathetic, but you may improve. You have already improved in my sight."

"Then I shall take that as my consolation prize," Matthew replied. He blew out the candle and stood. "Goodnight, Mary."

"Goodnight." Her reply was soft, and she looked out the window once more.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everybody! Here's the next chapter (finally). I hope I can update this more consistently but unfortunately school starts back up in a month, so I may be even more sporadic. Apologies for that in advance. Anyway, the vows in this chapter do not belong to me, and neither do the wonderful characters who I am writing about (because really, would I ever kill off Matthew or Sybil?). Reviews are amazing and encouraging and help me write faster, and thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. They are always very much appreciated. Enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

"I'm perfectly sure half the kingdom expects you to run away and back out at the last moment," Edith commented as Anna, the head maid in the castle, dressed Mary in her blue wedding dress. The wedding morning has dawned, another foggy day, and ina. Few short hours, Mary would be married.

"I'll have you know, I'm not Sybil," Mary replied in the most sarcastic of tones.

"Oh please," Sybil muttered. "Can you really imagine me doing something that foolish?"

Mary and Edith glanced at each other. "Yes."

Sybil frustratedly stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Mary rolled her eyes. Much as she loved her eager little sister, Sybil could be so blind. So naive.

"She is simply jealous. She seems to like Sir Matthew far more than you do. In fact, I think all of us like Matthew except for you," Edith said bluntly, a mocking tone in her voice.

Mary stood up abruptly, taking Anna by surprise. "If you insist on berating me on my wedding day, I'm afraid I don't want you in here. Actually, yes, it would be better if you would leave. You certainly aren't helping me stay calm."

"As if the great Princess Mary could ever lose her calm," Edith muttered. "I suppose you're dreading it."

"What?"

Edith smirked. Her haughty older sister was so easy to provoke, and Edith's own jealous feelings were forgotten when she was teasing Mary. "Your wedding. Or your wedding night, I suppose."

"Get out." Mary's voice was even, but she was shaking. "Edith, get out." Edith rolled her eyes but stepped out of the room.

Mary was nervous, incredibly nervous, but she would never admit that to Edith. With only a week's notice, she was dedicating her life to a man she barely knew. The wedding was happening quickly, he had only arrived a month ago. A month ago her life had completely changed. They had quickly went through the betrothal ceremony, and had mostly avoided each other ever since.

After her nighttime encounter with her future husband, Mary hadn't talked to him much, other than the usual pleasantries. Instead, she observed him, rather preferring that method of getting to know him. He was well-meaning, always, endearingly so. He had an tendency to be awkward and clumsy, however, which the king and queen became annoyed with quickly. Edith and Sybil were enamored with him, and often sung his praises. Mary knew they were both rather jealous of her position, but she would trade with them in a heartbeat.

Matthew was a better man than Mary had thought he would be. She had expected a pompous, self-satisfied, brassy knight to knock down the door of the castle and assume control of his bride. Instead, she had been given a gentle man who was more suited to be a scholar than a knight, who didn't approach her constantly and make amorous comments like many of her friends' fiancés had. He kept a respectful distance.

Oh, he had faults, to be sure. King Robert had asked if he would like to go on a hunt the day before his wedding, and he had refused. He obviously didn't understand not to refuse a king's offer and that made him rather an idiot in Mary's view. When asked why, he had said, "I think it is rather ridiculous to hunt animals for sport. There are many starving people who would put the animals to much better use. I don't believe shooting for entertainment is an honorable pastime." To this, Mary had given the mother of all eye rolls. He was so self-righteous, so annoyingly moral.

He was also one of the moodiest people Mary had ever met, and that was saying something seeing as she was a sister to Edith. One minute he would be chatting excitedly, the next he would be staring into space or rifling through one of the two books he owned, his head in a completely different world than the one his body resided knew she was being irrational, but these sudden mood swings annoyed her greatly. How could a man go from happily discussing whatever to staring at something without seeing it, obviously deep in thought, in a matter of seconds. His moods, especially his sullen, cranky ones, caused her to dislike the thought of marrying him.

But what frustrated Mary most was not him, but his pushy, interfering mother. How such a woman produced such a pushover of a son (and he seemed to be, as Mary had seen Sybil ask him to do things with her that she shouldn't have asked for, such as riding her horse outside the village walls, and he would gladly oblige) was beyond her. Every detail of her wedding had been contested by Isobel Crawley, who Matthew had admitted, was pushing him into the marriage.

"I do love her dearly," Matthew had said to her in a rare conversation about meaningful subjects. "She's a wonderful mother, and she's taught me so much. She's just a bit...stubborn."

"A bit?" Mary had scoffed at his understatement. If her mother and grandmother had not also been stubborn, her wedding would have been a completely different experience.

Matthew had shrugged, and his attention was drawn away by Sybil once again.

"Are you ready, your majesty?' Anna asked, placing a tiara on top of her elaborate hairstyle.

Mary snapped out of her thoughts and stared at her reflection. "I believe so. Is Sir Matthew already at the church?"

"He should be," Anna said, smiling gently at Mary. Anna was the maid of honor, and had been attending to Mary for the past week. She handed Mary a bouquet of orange blossoms and opened the door. "Shall we go?"

Mary stood up, careful not to damage her dress. "I suppose." She stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath, steadying herself for the upcoming ordeal. In a few short hours, she would be married. That was incredibly frightening, but nearly every woman went through it. It was the natural order of life for her kind of women. They got married. It wasn't strange, but it was frightening all the same.

* * *

Matthew's hands were sweaty. He wiped them on his clothes, hoping no one would notice. It wasn't even that warm, being a foggy spring day, but he was sweating profusely. So many people, most of them unknown to him, were gathered around the steps of the church. They left a pathway, however, for the bride to come through. His bride.

He shouldn't be so nervous, Mary was a fine woman. She was lovely and beautiful and she seemed to be capable of strong love; Matthew had seen how close she and Sybil were. He and Mary could at least get along, which was far better than many marriages.

But she had avoided him.

She had been civil, of course. It was the least that was expected of women. She had spoken to him occasionally, asking about his enjoyment of the area or how he had slept the previous night (the answer to the former being 'very much' and the answer to the latter being a very hesitant 'well'). But civility could only get them so far. Most of the time, she proceeded to ignore him, instead choosing to sit silently and quickly divert her gaze whenever he looked at her. She obviously wanted nothing to do with him.

That, to him, was a terrible basis for a marriage. Well, it wasn't as if either of them had the choice. They could give the priest reasons to not go forward with the marriage, but that would only cause them more trouble in the end.

So here he stood, on the steps of the church, waiting for his bride.

The priest came out of the church, and began a long-winded speech which Matthew caught barely a word of. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts. The priest told him to kneel, and so he did, still not focused. Everything was simply white noise. "Do you understand what you are about to engage in, Sir?"

He managed to catch the priest's question and squeak out an 'I do.' The priest then tapped him on the head, saying something about the king and such, and Matthew stood again, shaky on his feet. Why was he so nervous?

The procession began. First down the aisle between the crowd came Edith, Anna and Sybil, being Mary's bridesmaids. Next, a couple children from the village came, with flowers and gifts. They were cute looking children, but they seemed rather old for the job. One looked as if she was twelve or thirteen. Old enough to marry, he thought. He was rather old to get married, even though he was only in his twenties. Most boys and girls got married in their teens. Boys far younger than him had gone through this. If they could, why couldn't he?

Lastly, Mary began to proceed down. He turned to catch a glimpse of her, walking down magisterially on her father's arm. She certainly looked the part of her role as princess, a beautiful sight in her blue dress and her veil.

She stood to his left, breathing shallowly. Maybe she was just as nervous as he was. She stared at the priest, not seeming to see him. Was she trying not to shake? Were her hands as sweaty as his? From what he had seen, Princess Mary Crawley was a master at hiding her emotions. He couldn't know how she was feeling.

"We are gathered together here in the sight of God and His bounty of angels to join together this man and this woman in a binding of life; it is an honorable estate, ordained in paradise, and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be bound." The priest was looking out at the crowd now, and Matthew once again snuck a peek at the many people in the kingdom of Downton who had come to see his wedding. He knew very few of them.

"At this day of binding, if any man do alleged and declare any impediment, why they may not be coupled together in matrimony, by God's law, or the laws of the realm; and will be bound, and sufficient sureties with him, to the parties; or else put in a caution to prove his allegation; then the solemnization must be deferred, until such time as the truth be tried." The priest challenged anyone to come forward with reasons for them not to marry. Matthew had a sudden, and ridiculous urge to give a reason for the wedding to stop, but it would do him no good in the end.

Silence descended over the crowd, and after a few seconds, they all shouted "Let them marry!"

Matthew swallowed and stole a glance at Mary. She was still staring ahead, not looking at anything in particular.

"Man, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

He took a deep breath, and the words came out sounding rough, as if he had a scratchy throat. "I will."

The priest nodded, and turned to Mary, who snapped out of her blank stare long enough to look at the priest. "Woman, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will." Mary's voice was dull, monotone, but her voice shook. She was nervous too.

The priest then asked who was giving Mary away, and Robert answered, placing Mary's hand in the hand of the priest. Mary almost seemed to be glaring at her father, as if she was angry about the marriage. She probably was. The priest placed Mary's right hand in his, after confirming another sort of blessing. He immediately wished his hands weren't so sweaty; he hated the slippery feel of her hand in his. But then again, perhaps her hands were equally sweaty.

"Repeat these vows after me," the priest said. Matthew closed his eyes, took another steadying breath, and nodded as the priest began to speak.

"I, Matthew, take thee Mary, to be my wedded wife," he said, croaking the words out. Damn it, why couldn't he speak normally? "To have and to hold from this day forward..."

He could barely listen to what the priest was saying. His mind felt fuzzy, confused with everything going on. What if he said the wrong words? He was to be king someday, he couldn't just say the wrong words at his wedding. That would embarrass him in front of the entire kingdom, and most importantly Mary. "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health..."

Matthew didn't know what he was saying. How could he promise these things in the most sacred of ceremonies if he wasn't even sure? Marriage was a strange business. "To love and to cherish..." How could he love and cherish a woman he barely knew? It was maddening, the way these traditions worked. "Until death do us part. According to God's holy ordinance, and thereunto I grant thee my love."

He had said it. He had vowed to marry her and love her forever, despite the fact that he barely knew her. It wasn't right, but he knew he would hold to the vows. He had promised his love to her, and he would keep his promise.

Mary said her vows, in that same cold monotone. She seemed cool and confident, but her hand was shaking in his. She didn't look at him, instead looking right past his shoulder, just as he had done to her. This was not a prosperous start to their marriage.

Rings were exchanged, binding them together, though neither sounded entirely convinced of their speech. They kneeled, the priest praying, and the whole crowd said another prayer. Matthew heard none of the words. All he could think about was how strange this all was.

Their right hands were once again joined, feeling sweaty and slippery. For the first time in the ceremony, they looked into each other's eyes. He darted his gaze away as they made eye contact, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she did the same. They couldn't even look at each other, how could they be married?

"For as much as man and woman have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce therefore that they be man and wife together, in the name of the God, our bishop, and our king who is the protector of the Holy Spirit and our people. Amen."

He was married. It was time to kiss his bride.

They leaned into each other and barely brushed lips, both acutely aware of the awkwardness of the situation. Just as quickly as they had leaned in, they pulled back. The crowd cheered, but neither Mary nor Matthew smiled.

"May God bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully show his favor whilst looking upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen." The priest so gave his blessing, and Mary and Matthew, once again joining sweaty hands, walked through the middle of the crowd.

* * *

The feast was far too loud and extravagant for Matthew's liking. Far too many people were drunk. Even Mary, who seemed to be the most respectable of women, seemed a little bit tipsy, though she seemed absolutely sober compared to some of the village men.

All the guests filled the great hall, most coming up and offering their congratulations. "She is a prize, good sir. My father had hoped that she and I might marry, but I am quite confident she will be very happy with you," one man, about his own age, said. "It is very nice to meet you, Sir Matthew. I am Sir Evelyn."

Matthew smiled, but it was forced. "How lovely to meet your acquaintance. You are a friend of the royal family?"

"Very much so. I have known the princesses since we were children. Well, I ought to offer my congratulations to Mary."

Evelyn left, and went over to Mary, who was on the opposite side of the room. One would expect the newlyweds to be standing together, but except for their vows, they had not spoken. They had barely even made eye contact.

He rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day, and the feast seemed to be far from over. He was tempted to become drunk as well so that he would not have to remember this night. So that he would not have to stand around awkwardly on the side of the room, not knowing quite what to do. He had better judgement than that, however. It would not do him any good to get drunk, not on his wedding night.

Damn. It was his wedding night.

He didn't know what to do, where his bedroom was now, if Mary even wanted him that night. Was he supposed to share her bed, to make love to her despite the fact that they were so awkward around each other? What on earth were they supposed to do?

There was only one way to find out. He had to discuss it with Mary. There couldn't be a more awkward topic for his first conversation with his wife, but he supposed there wouldn't be much else for them to talk about. He didn't even know what to say to her.

Matthew made his way across the crowded hall, over to where Mary was. She was staring into space again, drinking what could not possibly be her first drink of the night. "Hello, Mary."

She looked up at him, finally made eye contact with him, and looked at her feet once more. "Yes? Is there something you desire?"

"I was only wondering where we were going to...sleep tonight."

"Ah, you want what all men desire," she said coldly.

Matthew blanched at her, but quickly gathered his composure. How could she assume something like that about him? He had tried to be respectful of her, not speaking to her in ways that would make her (and admittedly him) feel awkward or embarrassed. Did she really think he was like that? They truly didn't know each other. "No, no, not at all... If you would rather not, I don't mind... Whatever you feel comfortable with."

She shrugged. "We are expected to produce an heir. Mama has set up a new bedroom for us."

"Very well then," he said awkwardly. He still wasn't sure how to talk with her. "I suppose I will see you there later tonight." He began to walk back across the room, but he heard Mary's voice, far more emotive than he had ever heard it.

"Matthew, wait!" She ran up to him and grabbed his hand. "If we are to be proper newlyweds, I suppose the best thing to do is to sneak away before the feast is over. At any length, it shouldn't be an interesting feast much longer. Everyone is drunk, for heaven's sake."

He smiled bashfully. "Very well then. Show me to our chamber."


	3. Chapter 3

_I owe you guys an apology for taking nearly a year to update. I'm sorry, I really don't have a decent excuse. But I finally wrote this! I apologize for any anachronisms or mistakes. __Thank you guys for all the support and lovely reviews. Reviews make me happy. So enjoy this chapter and please review!_

* * *

The new chamber was one Mary hadn't been in before, even in an entire childhood spent in the castle. Her mother, or more likely a serf in the castle, had made it rather pleasant, with candles casting a dim light over a bed, and flowers on the bed and the shelf.

"This is very nice," Matthew said, as he stepped into the room, not meeting Mary's eyes. "These flowers are very beautiful. Perhaps tomorrow you can show me the gardens?"

Mary nodded. "Perhaps, although you might be expected to go hunting."

"Then I am afraid this is my last night of credibility," he said mournfully. He sat on the edge of the bed, and took off his shoes. "I'm not a very competent hunter, to be honest. That is part of why I don't want to hunt..."

A small laugh escaped Mary, to her own surprise. "I thought you trained as a night. Surely you would be quite capable."

"Alas, I was never much good at it," he replied, shooting his new bride an apologetic smile. "I'm surprised I actually was able to become a knight, it took me nearly a year to be able to ride a horse without falling off. I was always better at the thoughtful parts of it all, strategy, history, things like that. I wanted to go on to Cambridge..."

Mary bravely sat next to him. "Why didn't you? It seems like you're intelligent enough."

"I think that's the most you've complimented me for the whole time we're known each other, your highness," Matthew teased.

"I suppose perhaps marriage changes one," replied Mary, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Matthew furrowed his brow. "So quickly?"

"No, not yet. But maybe we'll make this work. We have to, don't we? We don't have a choice," Mary says ruefully, standing up from the bed. "But why didn't you go to Cambridge?"

"My father died... I needed to support my my mother, and I couldn't do that if I went to Cambridge. I was disappointed but it was the right decision, I believe. And it wouldn't have been much use to me anyway, not here."

Mary undid the belt of her dress and untied the laces of the back of it. "It's quite restrictive, you know. My dress, I mean. But I suppose living here as a female is restrictive as well. Quite annoying, actually."

"I shall be grateful, then, for what I have," Matthew replied, his eyes widening as the dress came off her. "I'm sorry, would you like me to look away?"

This elicited a shrug from Mary. "We're married, what does it matter. You have a right, now."

Matthew shook his head. "Of course I don't have a right, not if you don't want me to."

"You're very forward thinking. Very few have respect for their wives."

"I've always been odd," Matthew replied. "But perhaps I would be hesitant about one looking at me, and would want to extend the same courtesy."

Mary pulled off the outer layer of her gown, revealing a formless chemise underneath. "You're shy, then?"

"Maybe."

"Well, you don't need to be so around me," Mary replied. "I've never met a man like you. Funny that I should marry one."

Matthew bravely took off his doublet. "I can't say I've met a woman like you either."

"You're quite handsome, you know."

"Are you drunk?"

Mary smiled enigmatically. "I might be. But that doesn't mean I'm lying. I've heard drink often makes one more truthful."

"Perhaps you should be drunk more often then," Matthew replied.

"Are you implying that I am not honest?"

Matthew quirked an eyebrow, hesitantly sliding off his doublet and revealing the clothing underneath. "No. Merely that I cannot understand you. If you are honest, perhaps I can. But I can truthfully say, without a drink to my head, that you are quite beautiful."

"Then we are evenly matched," Mary replied. "Anyway, I'm not very drunk."

"No, obviously not. Just drunk enough to let your inhibitions go away," Matthew said. "Are you sure you want to tonight..."

Mary stepped toward him. "I'm sure."

Their first kiss had been hesitant. Their second wasn't perfect, but it was chosen by them.

* * *

To Mary's surprise, the light that flooded the chamber in the morning did not make her wince at all. Instead, it was pleasant, and the usual head pains she experienced after a rowdy feast were not present. She shifted in the bed, not used to the weight dipping down beside her. Of course, when it was cold in the winter, she shared a bed with Sybil (not Edith, never Edith) but that was different. Sybil always rose first, leaving Mary to shiver upon her awakening.

No, this was very different.

His eyes were still closed, and he looked even younger while in repose. There were no lines on his face, no furrow to his brow. His light hair was sticking up at all angles, but it was clean. He must have washed well for the wedding, of course he would.

It was so odd to think of herself as a married woman, and of Matthew as her husband.

She hadn't been lying, when she told him he was handsome. Perhaps it was not something she would normally say, but it was true. She used to dream of a handsome prince to marry, tall and dark and handsome, and definitely not a simple knight. He was not like any man she had imagined. His light hair and bright eyes were the opposite of the dark hair and deep chocolate pools she had dreamed of. But it wasn't necessarily a bad kind of different.

He respected her, last night. He showed that, in his own odd way, he loved her, or he was beginning to.

She had not been taught to expect that.

And there was passion between them, sparks that burned far longer than the candles that lit their chamber the night before.

No, he was not perfect. No, he was the opposite of anything she could have imagined. No, she didn't think she truly loved him. The night before had been nice, but was it love? No, it was duty. Of course it was duty. Love played no part.

It wasn't love, she convinced herself. Maybe he loved her, maybe a little bit, but he was far more sentimental than she and he was bound to let that cloud everything. It was better as duty.

But, she was grateful that it was not the dark eyed man of her imagination who slept in her bed, but him.

* * *

His eyes fluttered open to see Mary looking at him. There were traces of a smile on her face, and he couldn't help but give her a full smile back. She was beautiful, so much so that it took his breath away.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

A delicate tilt of her head brought his attention fully to her face, and she quirked a dark eyebrow playfully. "Long enough to realize that you like to take all of the blankets," she replied, holding her hands up as he threw the blanket toward her. "You didn't wake me, if that's what you're worried about."

"Good. I'm afraid I'm notorious for wrapping myself in my covers, at least according to my mother, and the knight I was a squire to," Matthew replied, pushing himself up in the bed. "I suppose I like to stay warm."

Mary grinned and mimicked his movements. "Well, I'm notorious for being cold, in more than one sense of the word. I suppose we're evenly matched."

"You said that last night, as well," he pointed out,

"I know. It's a turn of phrase I commonly use."

His eyes met hers, and she blushed and looked away. He kept looking. "Do you remember last night? Or did you drink..."

"Of course I remember last night, I'm certainly not going to forget my wedding night soon. Besides, the fact that all my clothing is on the floor is all the reminder I need," Mary said, waving her arm over the side of the bed.

It was Matthew's turn to blush. "Oh. Of course. I probably should get dressed..."

"I saw it all last night."

"Last night was a night of discoveries," he replied, his tone nervous. Suddenly, it brightened, and he said, "I do believe we can make this work, your highness."

Mary smiled back. "Perhaps we can, Sir Matthew. If nothing, we won't have to back out on the promises we made yesterday."


End file.
